


Facets

by Maggie Hall (charlottechill)



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: 1990s, Bathroom Sex, Early Work, Jewelry, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Kink, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 17:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottechill/pseuds/Maggie%20Hall
Summary: I don't even know how to summarize this... piercings and surprises?





	Facets

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in "McPikus Interruptus 1," May 1991.  
Edited slightly for typos and occasional wordiness. (In other words, re-read before archiving but essentially the same.)
> 
> The first of three "Facets" stories written in three separate universes.  
Facets II: Stolen Moments was written in The Professionals fandom, also by Maggie Hall, totally on a dare by The Shoshanna.  
Facets III was written by Megan Kent in "The Magnificent Seven" fandom.

Vince Terranova lay staring at the fire, its warmth toasting his bare arm and his face, heating up all the places where Frank’s body or the blanket didn’t shield him from it. Snow dusted everything outside, slushy and dark along the curbs and reflecting grime under the streetlights, pristine and frigid where it covered the grass. But it was warm inside, and tranquil, the last chance at tranquility for some time to come. Another job under, another indefinite period of living someone else’s life loomed up like a specter from Beyond. He was getting too old for this game, if only because he was thinking too much about it. There just wasn’t much left that he felt willing to risk his life for, too little that seemed more important than him and Frank. 

Morals and justice? Sonny Steelgrave’s words haunted him in morose moments. Don’t you get it, man? It’s taxes, Uncle Sam don’t think I’m payin’ my share, that’s what this is about. A hollow echo wearing Roger Lococco’s face placidly agreed. He’s right, brother. ’S all one big conspiracy feeding on itself, the multi-billion dollar game of Monopoly and the first one who blinks loses his balls. The words had been these men’s epitaphs. Maybe they were going to be Vinnie’s.

In his arms, Frank stirred once and Vince sighed, the strength of his love for Frank so excessive and potent that it still felt new. He chased away his demons of lost ideals for at least as long as the fire burned. No good to waste these precious moments dwelling on his fears and motives, not when he knew he was going to do it, and Frank knew he was going to do it, and everyone who knew him knew…. Better to concentrate on what was important now, and let tomorrow take care of itself.

“Frank?” He shadowed his fingers over the bald spot on the back of Frank’s head. “Hey, sleepyhead, wake up.”

“’M awake,” Frank mumbled, sighing and inching just a little closer to Vinnie’s chest.

He just smiled. It was Frank’s favorite hobby, napping in his arms, and Vince rarely tired of indulging him. But that was because he knew every way there was to get Frank to wake up and join the party. Soft whispers did it when he felt afraid. Nagging did it when he felt neglected. And when Vince felt like this…. 

He licked gently, just behind a chilly earlobe, drafting a fine stream of breath over cool skin and rubbing the rising goosebumps with a fingertip. Frank twitched, rolling his head back into the crook of Vinnie’s arm. “You’re gonna be real awake real quick, you know,” he assured, dipping his fingers into the hollow of Frank’s shoulder and down over his breastbone, making patterns in the dark chest hair. He didn’t miss the faint smile forming, and leaned over to brush it with a kiss. 

Vince smiled back unseen, carding his nails through the coarse pelt, trailing his fingers to the aureola of Frank’s right nipple and just barely nudging at the little gold ring there. It turned him on incredibly to touch it, to graze his fingers around the ring’s circumference and feel where it went in, where it came out. Thinking about why it was there at all still stunned him, at times. Symbolic of how much Frank loved him, just looking at it made his heart ache and his thoughts turn to doe-eyed, sonnet-ridden mush. Playing with it made him hard—he had never known a better aphrodisiac than his lover’s reaction to the careful teasings.

He shifted a little, giving his cock room to grow, and leaned over Frank’s chest. The ring was small and subtle, less than the diameter of a dime, and it reflected brilliantly against the peachy nipple and darker chest hair. He took the ring between his teeth and nudged it back and forth with his tongue. Frank, eyes still shuttered in feigned sleep, bit back a gasp of pleasure as his nipple stiffened up under the twisting pressure.

“What will you think of next?” Vince murmured, tongue tip caught in the circle of gold, heart caught by the unconscious display of pleasure on his lover’s face.

“I didn’t think of it this time,” Frank whispered denial, arching his chest up and demanding more attention.

“Yeah well, you did the next best thing; you let me think for you.”

“I seem to recall one of your Star Wars icons having somethin’ to say about fools following fools,” Frank muttered.

Vince tugged sharply with his tongue, dragging a staccato grunt of pleasure from Frank. “Stop complaining, you know you love it. You’d do it again in a second.”

Frank made no comment but rolled his shoulders instead, increasing the tension on the ring in Vinnie’s teeth and making them both shudder. Frank wouldn’t say it out right, but Vince knew it was the man’s closet pride and joy.

Vince had been determined from the first time they’d gone to bed that Frank cut loose on occasion, sure to his soul that the man would learn to appreciate the more esoteric pleasures if he’d live a little, experiment a little. But Vince had never actually thought Frank would go for this; no, this he had thought of as the ultimate weapon, a titillating threat to use when he was inducing Frank to try the things that were safe and secret and left no visible trace. “I’ll have to get you a ring and drag you around by it then” inevitably got his lover to open up and experiment more. Frank would blanch, then argue and then give in. 

He licked the puckered nipple tenderly, wondering if either of them had really changed so much or if this had always been lying under the surface just waiting to be led into the light.

May of last year, San Francisco. Fantasy and reality had a head-on collision in Vinnie’s balls and he was hungry to see his lover marked. He hadn’t known what hit him and didn’t much care, he just knew that the erotic kick of arousal driving through him was something he needed to follow. He needed Frank’s willingness. He needed Frank to want it. He needed to be able to say “I made that happen and it’ll always be there.” But even with his nagging and cajoling and even with his desire fueling the argument, Vince was still stunned when Frank agreed to keep the appointment.

“Frank,” he had said, following him along the street, voice carrying only far enough to make his lover shorten his stride to hear, “you have no idea how sexy it’ll look, how sexy it’ll feel. Do it, Frank. Do it for me. Do it because I want it so bad it makes my balls ache just thinkin’ about it. Do it because you love me, Frank.”

Frank had stopped and put a hand over his mouth to shut him up, and when Frank drew away his own mouth was set in a tight, nervous line. “I said ‘yes’, you can shut up now.” 

The place was very up-market, a “salon” where poor little rich kids mingled with the city’s nouveau riche, and this kind of thing was passé with the staff. Vinnie paid before they got past the counter, giving the sun-bleached blonde a 100% tip. “Make it go easy for him, huh?” he ordered, grinning, but his hand brushed Frank’s in a subtle gesture of reassurance. For a second Vince thought she was going to tuck the tip down her blouse. But she slid it into her slacks pocket instead and smiled blindingly at Frank, circuiting the counter and patting his hand. 

“You’ve come to the right place, Mr. Smith.” Frank’s swift glare was worth the conspicuous alias. “Now if you’ll step this way we’ll get right to it.”

Frank was hauled into a corner alcove away from public eyes, where he shucked off his shirt under Vinnie’s reverent stare. Frank’s eyes opened wide fast, trying to fill the lenses of his glasses, and Vince turned to see what he was looking at. Miss California was loading a round silver ring onto the impressive injector that was in all practicality a glorified staple gun. 

“No,” Vinnie said. Frank and the girl both looked up. “Not silver. Gold.” Miss California looked nonplussed. 

“The stainless is much better; it’s stronger, and hypoallergenic—” she stopped when he held up a hand. 

“Great. Thanks for the lesson. I want gold.” Shrugging, the girl did as she was told. She selected another factory-sealed baggie containing a single gold loop this time, and replaced the stainless ring. Frank’s knuckles had gone white under his grip on the chair arms and he was sitting and staring with vaguely hostile eyes at the gun. Vince knelt down by the chair, breathing gently against his lover’s ear, “I love you Frank. It’ll be over in a minute. 

Predictably, Frank glared. “Oh thanks,” he hissed, “I feel so much better.” 

But the sick look of anticipation disappeared. Frank leaned back, blushing scarlet as he dropped his eyes and squared back his shoulder on the woman’s command. His nipple puckered up hard as a pebble under the chill of alcohol-dipped cotton, and his hands relaxed, just slightly, from their death grip on the chair. He let her pierce him without a sound or a twitch, and Vince laid a hand along the bare collarbone. 

“See? It’s done now.”

Frank looked at him, his face unfathomable. “Yeah, it’s done. Let’s go.”

Not once since they had left San Francisco had either of them directly mentioned the event, nor was a word uttered about the rock-hard erections they had returned to the hotel room with that day. The fierce, passionate lovemaking they had shared still haunted his body’s memory.

And Frank had worn thick shirts or firmly buttoned suit jackets for the following four weeks, perspiring right through the swelteringly humid D.C. summer.

All those months ago, now, and sometimes Vince still didn’t believe the lengths Frank went to to please him. He counted himself lucky that, most of the time, whatever they did pleased Frank too.

Like this had. Now well-healed and incredibly sensitive, the pierced little nipple was silent testament to Vinnie’s persuasive powers, and to Frank’s broadening horizons. Some vestige of 1950s upbringing kept Frank from ever putting it on himself, and Vince kind of liked that. As soon as Frank removed his tie it was Vinnie’s appointed task to open Frank’s shirt and do it for him. The little shiver that ran through his lover when he slipped the cool metal through the piercing hole never failed to find an echo in Vinnie’s groin.

“Frank?” he whispered, gazing on fire-bronzed skin and straying a hand down the relaxed belly. He teased the firming erection, affectionately christened “weasel” because it popped up with so little encouragement. Whoever’d said guys hit their sexual peak at 17 hadn’t interviewed Francis Xavier McPike. Frank could get to it with no warmup at all. Vince figured that his lover was making up for years of abstinence, and counted himself damned lucky for the privilege of helping him do it. “Gonna keep trying to sleep, or wake up and join the party?”

“What do you think?” was the reply as Frank’s hand joined his, increasing the pressure of his fist.

“I think you’re ready to be fucked through the carpet, that’s what I think.”

Frank’s eyes popped open at that and a speculative gleam brightened the blue. “Yeah? No kiddin’?” he asked casually. “Because I thought I was ready to fuck you through the carpet. Go figure.”

“Yeah well,” Vince rolled atop him, smothering the smaller man with his weight and excitement, “I suppose we could arrange that if you want.”

“I want. Cummere.” Vince let his head be pulled down for a kiss and Frank counted his molars with tender precision, sucking Vinnie’s tongue so expertly that he felt it all the way to his groin. 

Foreplay for them was sometimes nonexistent and sometimes, like today, tender and long-lasting. Vinnie touched Frank everywhere, one hand resting proprietarily over the ring as he pivoted his body around that point of contact. Frank was groaning when Vince licked along the join of leg and thigh, skin and muscle jumping sharply under his tongue. He lifted up, kneeling beside the supine body, rubbing the flat of his palm over the ring. Frank winced, just a little; he’d had almost enough and pleasure was turning into irritation. Loathe to stop but expert in what pleased his lover, he nudged and prodded Frank onto his belly and straddled his hips, proffering a gentle massage.

“Vince, you’re spoilin’ me man,” Frank muttered without reproach.

“Somebody needed to.”

Frank arched his hips in reply, wriggling under him, and Vince felt the breath catch in his throat. Anticipation was such paradoxical pleasure, being strung out on the need to just go for it and denying himself because how he got there, and how he helped Frank get there, was more important than the destination. They had a long, shallow grade to climb and a whole lot of ways to love each other ahead of them before they went over the top.

“You must be gettin’ bored up there,” Frank finally offered, pressing up with his butt. “You’re gonna put me to sleep if you don’t cut it out.” Vince lifted a little to let Frank turn under him, catching the heat and hunger that was wide-awake and glowing in the pale blue eyes and feeling the hard press of cock against his groin. Yeah, Frank was just pacing it tonight, making it last. Vince let himself be pulled down for a short kiss and rolled where Frank led him. When hands and mouth travelled carefully down his body, he groaned. It felt like the instant replay in the Superbowl; the action was there, and the adrenalin and the pumping rhythm, but the focus was on every little nuance, every minute detail.

Some time later, Frank was skimming the sensitive skin inside his thighs with delicate fingertips while he took Vinnie’s erection deep in his throat, until Vince was trembling and sweating under the onslaught. His hips lifted in counterpoint to every slow slide of Frank’s hands and mouth.

“Frank?” he barely breathed, tremulous.

He looked down into the long, still silence to see his lover staring up at him, mouth wet, eyes filled with love. 

“You about ready for that ‘fucking through the carpet’ part?” Frank whispered.

Vince was way past ready. He knew it, and Frank knew it. “Just do it, Francis.” Frank started to pull away and Vinnie grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine. I wantcha now, not tomorrow, not in a minute, not right after you fetch the lube. Now.” Vince leaned forward, sucking Frank hard and wetting him thoroughly before shifting onto his belly, legs spread wide.

Frank knelt up behind him, rubbing him gently open with wet fingers, prodding his legs wider, pulling his hips up into just the right position and then pushing into him in one long, slow glide. Yeah, Frank had learned his body like no one else ever had. Far from through the carpet it was gentle and persistent, a delicate, unhurried rhythm with hips and hand, masturbating Vince along until he was whimpering and groaning and trembling with need. Not that it mattered—not that it ever mattered. Frank could get very methodical, he liked to keep it slow and smooth right until the end and it was always fireworks when Vince was patient enough to wait for it.

The fire glowed on his retinas as his eyes squeezed shut and orgasm flared through his body. Frank, never far behind, shuddered and came deep inside him, hand clenching hard on Vinnie’s cock and making it all last. Vince felt his lover’s full weight drop down, and took it with pleasure. His skin was vibrant, hypersensitive to every panted breath on his neck, to the fine tracings of Frank’s fingers skimming along his ribs and the firm fullness still in him and the hard stamp of the little ring against his shoulder blade.

As his left side cooled and his right dried by the heat of the fire, he decided he was ready to end where they had begun, with Frank ensconced in his arms and dozing away the rest of the night. The rich sense of lovemaking surrounded him, the pulse in his nerves and the luscious ache in his ass. It was something he could hold onto as he watched Frank sleep. But the fire was dying faster than he wanted and he’d be messy damned soon. He rolled, dumping his protesting lover onto the blankets, rising to throw on more wood and go clean himself up. Besides, he mused as he wet a towel, maybe now was the time to give Frank his present. He wiped himself down and tossed the damp cloth into the laundry hamper, stretching and loving the way his body always felt after Frank had finished with it. Vince smiled. Yes, now was definitely the time to pass on his gift. God only knew what would be happening over the next couple of months, and he didn’t feel like waiting for the next “right” time to come along.

On his way back from the john he slipped into the bedroom and rummaged through his sock drawer, pulling out a small, wrapped jeweler’s box. Frank would like it, would love the sentiment and the value even as he steadfastly refused to do anything about it. Vince smiled, holding back a chuckle. Besides being the most sentimental gift he’d ever wrapped for Frank—and there had been some pretty damned embarrassing ones—it was the replacement ultimate weapon, and he’d get mileage out of it for years to come.

When he slid back under the blankets, Frank moved just a little to make room. The box dropped with a satisfying thump onto the middle of Frank’s chest and his lover strained to see what it was, eyes crossing when he lifted his head and tried to bring it into focus. “What’s that?”

“Gee Mr. Ranger, I dunno. Why don’t you open it and find out?”

Frank’s suspicious look crept onto his face, and Vince just smiled wider. “Remember, it’s the thought that counts,” he quipped as Frank gingerly removed the wrapping paper.

Inside the box was a diamond earring, a conservative 1/3 karat in a simple gold post setting. Frank retrieved his glasses and looked again, pulling it from the box. His eyes queried in silence and Vinnie sighed, taking the earring and holding it up to watch the fire reflect through its clear facets.

“It’s one of Mom’s. My dad gave her a pair for their 10th anniversary, cost him an arm and a leg. He’d saved for them for almost a year.” Pete had been buried with its mate in his pocket. “It didn’t cost me a dime, so don’t lecture me about it.”

“Lecturing was the farthest thing from my mind, Vincenzo,” Frank murmured, more than a little bewildered. “I know you too well. But why?”

Vince shrugged and sniffed, self-conscious about the way his feelings were moving him. “I wanted you to have something, something personal that’s important to me. It’s not like I could give you her engagement ring or anything, I mean even if she wasn’t still wearin’ it, so I decided to give you this. It’s special, Francis, so lock it in your safe deposit box or freeze it in your ice cube tray with the rest of the valuables.”

“Yeah. I—thanks, Vince. Really. I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you love me,” he offered, heart overflowing, aching for the look of surprise on Frank’s face and for the sudden brightness reflecting in watery blue eyes. Frank had never had enough love and sometimes, Vince knew, the depth of Vinnie’s could dazzle him.

Vince found himself in a tight embrace with the fisted hand holding the diamond rubbing hard against his back. “I love ya, Vinnie.”

“Good. That’s enough, that’s plenty.” Eventually, he peeled Frank away from him and retrieved the earring, replacing it into its box and setting it by the hearthstones to collect firelight.

“C’mon baby, it’s just an earring.” He said it as much for Frank as for himself, not really sure what to do with his feelings except get a little distance from them. Rolling over, he brought Frank with him so that his lover lay between him and the fire. “Gimme your glasses. If you fall asleep in ’em you’ll just bend an earpiece again, and you’re hell to live with when they don’t fit right.”

He held out his palm as Frank complied, then leaned back to set them on the coffee table out of harm’s way. When he turned back Frank was already facing the fire, probably with a blurry image of sparkling diamond on his mind.

•••

Vince checked his watch and refilled Frank’s coffee cup. Fifteen minutes before they had to leave, Frank should have just finished brushing his teeth and right now be tying his tie while he plodded up the hall. Frank usually ran on automatic until he was well into his second shot of caffeine.

“Frank, c’mon,” he yelled, wondering what was keeping the man. There were some routines from which McPike never deviated; the shortest distance between waking and coffee was one of them. “Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Come on, your coffee’s getting cold.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be right there.”

Vince added milk and sugar to his own cup, counting off the seconds until Frank walked in. He sat down without even a furtive glance toward Vinnie and slurped at his coffee in silence.

“Frank? Something going down that I don’t know about?”

“What? No, everything’s fine.”

“Then what’s the matter with you? You look like you just ran over your dog.”

McPike took a deep breath and looked up, a familiar determination in his eyes. “Vince, I’ve talked myself into and back out of this scene more times than I can count. Thinkin’ about your present last night finally made up my mind. Now I’ve got a present for you that I just want you to take. No arguments, no backtalk.”

“Yeah, okay. What is it?” he asked, suspicious as hell.

Gingerly, his lover placed a blue foil-wrapped packet on the table and nudged it across the formica top. Trojan-Enz. Spermicidally lubricated for your pleasure and protection, the little package proudly declared.

“What? What the hell is that for?” he asked, staring down at it in outrage.

“It’s for you. Consider it an emergency reserve and stick it in your wallet like a Boy Scout. And if you use it, remember where the friendly neighborhood drugstore is and get some more.”

Stunned, he picked up the condom and flipped it over between his fingers. Great. He tossed it back across the table. “I’m not taking this fucking thing and you should be ashamed of yourself for telling me to.”

“One of us has got to use his head about this,” Frank snapped. “I know you’re not gonna need it, we’ve been through all the avowals of fidelity before. But you’re going under, Vinnie, you and I have been together long enough that maybe it’s gettin’…comfortable. And it’s different when you’re under, I know that as well as anybody does. This time the ‘beautiful people’ are gonna be crawling out of the woodwork. I don’t want you to take any chances. Just shove it in your wallet and forget about it, and if anything does happen, make sure you use it. Use it for me, Vince.” 

Use it for me. Frank didn’t care a damn if Vince passed him an STD, he probably hadn’t even thought of that. Frank was just worried about Vinnie catching something himself.

“Frank, we’ve been lovers for almost two years, faithful since at least last Christmas and you still don’t get it, do you? You know I don’t take risks just for a quick lay, but you still don’t trust me. What do you want? Blood?” The defense-by-attack took on a life of its own and he bolted upright, sending his chair skating back across the linoleum. “Maybe I oughta get you a couple too, huh?” he accused. “Just in case?”

“Cut it out, Vince. It isn’t the same and you know it.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll spend the next few weeks or months sitting in a hotel and running backup for you, not cavorting with the jet set and workin’ under. Now take the damned thing and stop arguing with me.”

Vince sighed in the face of Irish obstinance and picked up the condom. Making a great display, he pulled out his wallet and slid it in behind his VISA card. “You satisfied?” he glared, but Frank wasn’t hearing his disapproval—only his agreement.

“Yeah. Thanks, Vince. And I do trust you, man. I just don’t wanna have anything extra to worry about this trip out. Use your head.”

“I’m gonna use my head, Frank. Remembering what I’ve got at home is usin’ my head.”

That earned him a faint smile. “Thanks for the sentiment, lover. But you’re a big boy and so am I. If something happens, then it happens—it doesn’t change anything between us where it counts. Just…just don’t be stupid. I’ve got too much invested in you.”

Vinnie drained his coffee and filled the cup with water before he felt in control enough to reply. A part of him wanted to cry that after all this time Frank still didn’t get it. Another part wanted to beat the shit out of him for the insult. But the biggest part, the part that was always winning out these days, was the part that loved enough to understand Frank’s fear. “I liked the present I gave you a helluva lot better, Frank.” He dredged up a smile. “Now finish your coffee, I’ve gotta go.”

•••

It had been a long, long job. United Airlines’ red eye into National was on final approach, and Vince figured he’d have just enough time to catch a cab to OCB Headquarters and shower before the morning shift started. Not even close to enough time to go and see Frank, to pay him back for the evil bit of phone play they’d shared on Thursday night. And Paul Beckstead would suffer vile punishment if Vince could ever think of a way to safely execute it; the sonofabitch had recalled Frank for a Friday debriefing, leaving Vince stuck in nowhere USA for three days as the case wrapped, with only the Uncle on the end of a telephone for company—Uncle, and the memory of Frank’s games that knotted his muscles with frustration and desire.

He licked his lips in suspense. It wasn’t just the phone sex, which hadn’t surprised him really. Frank had been as frustrated as he was, by then. No, it was all of it. Fifteen weeks and practically no Frank: a stolen hour one afternoon and a very tacky motel; the quickie of quickies in the place Frank was staying, with high risk and hollow satisfaction. But it wasn’t even that. It was the frustration of the long lonely hours knowing he was minutes from Frank and unable to risk doing anything about it. It was the vision blurred with tears whenever he’d taken the risk and then had to leave, frustration burning through him because he knew the importance of his job and he knew he couldn’t risk Frank’s being found out while he did it. Maybe mostly, it was the stress of sublimation, the schooling back into old patterns of women-watching and cool, callous behavior, so that when he did have a chance to drop the game and think of Frank it was with guilty paranoia.

Well, not long now. Their 72-hour “get reacquainted session” had been stolen from them, but nothing would get in the way of tonight. He didn’t care what was going on, tonight he was taking Frank home and they were gonna make love until they couldn’t get it up anymore and then they were going to talk until they ran out of things to say or got it up again. So much to share, so much feeling stored up in these last weeks that he’d been powerless to think about. You can’t mix business with the personal side, you’ll screw up everything if you try. 

“Good advice, Frank,” he muttered under his breath. “Really great.”

The airplane touched tarmac, startling him out of his thoughts, and he was glad it was over again. He got his bags collected and hailed a cab.

It was springtime in Washington, the most romantic time of the year. Spring was a short season, usually throttled by heavy storms out of Canada well into February and stifled in Gulf Stream humidity by mid-May. Discounting thundershowers, that gave a guy about five really good weeks.

He and Frank had missed springtime in D.C., last year.

He leaned back in the cab seat, watching cherry blossoms in bloom outside the windows as they crossed the Memorial Bridge, and settling himself down. He’d see Frank in probably an hour and a half, and knowing that the wait was almost over had a calming effect, just like it always had even before they were lovers. They’d have evenings and weekends together, spend some time spending money on Frank’s teen-aged son and watching him grow up, maybe take a couple days off and go rent a nice condo in Nags Head, while the off-season rates were still in effect. He smirked, wondering how Frank might reward him for his thrift. He was beginning to look forward to the office, and to settling back in…just like always. Routine was the best decompression therapy the Bureau had ever come up with. 

He paid off the driver and grabbed up his bags, flashing his ID at gate and door, picking up this week’s ident pin, and heading for the showers by the gym.

Traffic had been light, he was still damned early; no chance Frank would be in just yet. But soon…a warmth settled just under his solar plexus at the prospect of meeting up with him in the crowded conference room, of the closet thrill of pretending it was nothing more than two guys who worked together and were friends. There was an illicit rush in his and Frank’s obvious deceptions, fed probably (or at least the Bureau shrinks would surmise if they knew), by their skill at—and fascination for—undercover work in general.

Whatever.

He showered and changed, ignoring his suit carrier in favor of black leather, warming even more to the coming day. The “fiscal review” was on the agenda, i.e. the quarterly bitching out of field teams for their expenses, but he didn’t care. He was looking forward to the meeting: paint thinner coffee, Paul Beckstead’s familiar glower and Little Rascals haircut, his own blue jeans and boots worn purely for the sake of personal rebellion in a room full of suits. With Frank less than forty-five minutes away and the unspoken promise of making love in the afternoon looming over him…somehow it all seemed worthwhile.

He stepped into the war room to see what, if anything, had changed, and saw the back of Frank’s head instead. Frank had come in God knew how early and was waiting for him. 

He should have known. For all the stress of separation and role playing on Vince personally, he knew it was ultimately worse on Frank; Frank, who spent so much lonely, quiet surveillance, research and support time worrying, both about whether or not Vince would be caught or found out, and whether or not he’d end up sleeping with anybody on the job. Vince stopped at the door and swallowed a grin, shielding his actions with his body and reaching into his wallet to palm the condom Frank had tossed to him so long ago.

He sauntered down behind the left-hand row of tables toward Frank, who was seated mostly with his back to him and arguing with a giggling Mark Cermak. Vinnie’s heart was pounding behind the committed cool facade he wore.

“Hiya Mark,” he greeted, wondering what the joke was. “Frank.” Not even Vince could see a hint of the reaction he suspected his lover was having. 

Reaching to shake Frank’s hand he pressed the condom off on him, enormously pleasured by the look of surprise. Frank knew what he was being given, and like the pro he was, slipped it into his jacket pocket without even Mark catching the exchange. “What’s going on?”

“Frank’s getting absolutely cosmopolitan, Vince, don’t you think?” Mark asked, giggling again “He’s definitely mellowing in his old age.” Vince didn’t know anybody as old as Mark who could giggle so convincingly.

“Huh?”

Frank cut in before Mark could explain, voice irritated and embarrassed. “Okay Mark, ha-ha, the joke’s over. I’m gonna get some coffee.” He pushed up out of his chair and sidestepped around Vinnie, heading for the door.

“What’s the matter with Frank?”

But Mark just shook his head, still smiling. “I’ll let him break it to you, Vince. Good to have you back.”

Vinnie caught up with Frank in the bustling cafeteria, reaching to touch his shoulder and pull him around. “Frank? What’s goin’ on, why the embarrassment?” But Frank wasn’t looking at him, just blushing redder. “Frank?”

He watched the decision being made in the familiar profile, watched the pouting lips pucker in a frown and the inhale of a deep breath before his lover turned to face him. 

It took a second, in the face of Frank’s belligerent glare, to notice the earring. When he did and his mouth dropped open, Frank hissed, “I missed your birthday. Happy Birthday. Now shut up,” looking at the oblivious doughnut-buyers around them with a paranoid gleam in his eye.

Vince couldn’t have come up with a joke if he’d wanted to, and under the circumstances a joke wasn’t even in the picture. That Frank had done this for him—that Frank had done this at all—was too overwhelming to take in all at once. An earring was anathema to everything Frank professed to be; it was a “yuppie label”, or an “effeminate” one, or “a stupid-thing-old-guys-do-to-pretend-they’re-young”, depending on what time of day it was when you asked him his opinion on the subject. There weren’t words for the dramatically public step Frank had taken, just because Vinnie wanted it. He sucked in a breath, feeling the sweet curl of arousal rekindling in his gut. Frank would do anything for him; if he had ever been in doubt, that grey slate had been whitewashed clean with the diamond stud winking at him under fluorescent cafeteria lighting. And right along with the pleasure and the appreciation came the resolve to guard Frank against his own whims. To take advantage of Frank’s love was tantamount to stealing social security checks from old ladies, or kidnapping babies.

“Thanks,” he said mildly after some measure of control had returned. Enough to steady his voice, but it did nothing for the pounding blood in his veins. Wait until he end of the fucking day? Not for a million bucks. “Look, I need to talk to you in private for a minute. It’s personal.” His tone gave nothing away, but Frank knew him too well; maybe Frank saw something no one else would see, because the scowl turned into shock which was just as quickly replaced by a profoundly blank stare. “I’ll make an appointment with you. Sometime this afternoon?” 

He shook his head. “Not good enough. It needs to be now.” He hoped Frank was reading him right, he hoped Frank knew that if he had to, he’d drag the man out of this fucking room by force.

The pause lengthened before Frank’s scowl softened into resignation. “Just hold it together,” he barely whispered. “It’s not long now.”

“I’m not gonna do anything,” he muttered back. “I just need to talk to you in private.” Mouth barely moving, breath barely disturbing the air-conditioned breeze, Frank nonetheless got the message.

He watched a hand slip into a jacket pocket and smiled to himself as, unseen, Frank’s fingers toyed with the condom. “Okay then,” Frank gave in, falling into the routine. “Yeah, I gotta minute.” 

And Vince turned and headed for the door with the sure and certain knowledge that Frank was a step behind.

Down the corridor, left and left again, and Vince was locking the door on the executive bathroom. Not the most romantic of places, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna wait the whole day. He ducked into both of the stalls to confirm their vacancy, then grabbed Frank and shoved him against the wall, sucking on Frank’s mouth, his tongue, pulling the very breath from his lungs.

“You’re wearing the other one too,” he said with certainty, “aren’t you? Aren’t you, Francis? God but you’re the sexiest sonofabitch I’ve ever had the good luck to fall in love with.”

He gave Frank no chance to respond before taking his mouth again, raping it, undoing jacket button and pushing it off Frank’s shoulders, pressing his palms against the white cotton shirt and feeling the thin, firm outline of the nipple ring underneath. He groaned into his lover’s mouth, feeling the heaving chest, knowing even as he tugged on the ring through the shirt that he was forcing Frank to catch up to the arousal that had kicked through him in the break room, scant minutes ago. He pushed a thigh between Frank’s legs, spreading him and rubbing hard, while his hands got busy on getting the shirt out of Frank’s pants.

It was a second before he realized that Frank wasn’t helping him, was in fact actively fighting him. He pulled back, looking into panicked eyes, seeing the electric arousal there right along with it. “What?”

“Vince, it’s the toilet in OCB headquarters, not a Los Angeles bath house!” 

“I don’t care where it is, Frank. I’d fuck you if we were the star attraction in the Main Street Electrical Parade at Disneyland.”

It was obvious to him that Frank was with him, but his jaw was set in that stubborn line that announced McPikian self-denial to all who really knew him. “You can’t, Vinnie,” he panted. “Not here.”

“Okay, fine, I won’t fuck you,” he agreed, looking for a new way in while Frank regrouped his arguments. He got the belt loosened and zipper down before Frank grabbed his wrist again.

“Then what the hell are you doin’?”

Vince went to his knees on the cool white tiles and shrugged off the restraining hand, pulling down pants and shorts, palming the rigid erection as soon as it was free of clothes. “I’m sucking you off.”

“Vince—Vince, you can’t, for godsakes we’re in Paul’s fucking bathroom.”

Vince paused long enough to look up, saw the sweat-sheened face and the impassioned tension and knew he had won. “Well, Beckstead owes us—he stole our weekend.” And then all of the protests meant nothing in the face of reality, and the reality was that he had Frank’s stiff erection filling his throat, Frank’s familiar, explicit scent filling his nostrils, Frank’s ass in his hands and Frank’s endless whispered protestations echoing in his ears. 

It was perfect.

Soon enough the protests faltered, then stopped altogether.

Soon after that he heard the first choked-off groan, and felt the first spasmodic jerk in the muscles of Frank’s ass, and then Frank was coming hard and long and gasping as his body doubled up with it, muscles tensed and trembling with the orgasm Vince pulled out of him. The familiar bitter taste of Frank’s cum on his tongue was like manna from heaven, bringing him almost to the brink himself as he took all Frank had to give him. He needed so little, so damned little to go over the edge….

Frank was still panting when Vince stood up to unbutton his jeans and shove them past his hips. “Just a little, Frank, just a little bit,” he whimpered, grasping a lax hand and wrapping it around his cock, pressing his body forward until he was rubbing himself through Frank’s clenched fingers and against the warm belly. “Lift your shirt, don’t let me mess it up,” he whispered, pushing it up himself so he could finger the nipple ring and feel the heat and hardness of his lover’s chest against his. He was pushing, thrusting mindlessly, almost on the brink when Frank’s fingers carded through his hair, bringing his head down, and he caught the sparkle of that earring. It froze him, for a moment. In slow motion he moved, reverent, palm pressing flat against the pierced nipple, mouth opening to take in the earlobe. Gently, so tenderly he barely felt its presence in his mouth, he tongued the diamond, moving it carefully within the still-new puncture.

Frank choked minutely, trembling. His hand tightened around Vinnie’s cock and a helpless groan seeped out against Vinnie’s throat. It was enough, it was more than enough and he was coming, Frank’s head whipping around as soon as he opened his mouth to scream. The kiss gagged him, keeping him quiet as his stomach convulsed with the pleasure. Frank’s cupped palm caught his cum, smoothing it along his sensitized skin. Everything was still for a long moment as his body absorbed the orgasm, heart pounding in his chest and against Frank’s chest, before his lover wriggled out from under him and left him leaning against the chill tiles.

“This was crazy,” Frank growled, compulsively washing his hands and toweling off his stomach. He tucked his shirt back into his pants, zipping up before he would even look in the mirror. Vince was still picking himself up off the wall, feeling the pleasure all the way down to his toes. “Totally nuts,” Frank continued, “and I’m even crazier because I know just how nuts it was.” He leaned down to retrieve his jacket from the floor, trying hard to subdue his labored breathing. All Vinnie saw was the hard shell that covered the mushy compassion and luxuriant firecracker sexuality that was his lover.

“I missed you, Francis.”

And suddenly Frank was batting Vinnie’s hands away from his pants, pressing him against the wall and kissing him so ferociously he felt like he was being devoured. “Aw Vinnie,” Frank groaned against his neck, hugging him tight for just a second. “I missed you too. But this was still nuts.”

“As my aunt Emily’s fruitcake, Frank.”

A minute after that, Frank was straightening his tie and regarding himself critically in the mirror while Vince admired his mother’s jewelry so self-consciously displayed. The pale blue eyes met his in reflection. “You really don’t think this thing looks as stupid as I do, huh?”

Vince leaned over and kissed his neck, watching both their images and wondering what he’d done to deserve this kind of a love. “I think it looks great, Frank. I love it, I really do.”

“Yeah well,” and now Frank was griping, sure sign of pleasure when he was in a mood like this, “I guess I’ll hafta keep it, then.”

Vince moved away, giving them both just a little more time to cool back down, to get the satisfied looks off their faces, and glanced around the john to make sure there were no telltale signs. Frank reached into his pocket and drew out the condom. “You, uh, you really didn’t need this then?”

“No, I didn’t. I told you I wouldn’t before I went in, but you never listen.”

“Vinnie,” he said placidly, “you’re the one in this partnership who never listens. Me, I hear every word. But…thanks, just the same.”

“It was my pleasure, Mr. McPike.” So easy, to ignore the deeper emotions because half of their fellow federal employees would scream blue murder if they knew the truth. So easy to live the lie the way their careers and training had taught them to: convincingly and completely authentic.

Vince took the package from Frank and dropped it in the trash, then turned and ushered him out to the door. “I won’t be needing it next time out, either, but you’re welcome to offer me the insurance just the same.”

“Then you shouldn’t have thrown it away; those things have gone up since the last time I bought one.”

“Yeah? And when was that?”

“Oh, I dunno…1978?”

He laughed; it was probably the truth. Then he looked down at his watch and swore. “Get moving, we’ve got less than five minutes. Paul’ll be in there already, warming up.”

They skidded to a halt just outside the doors and strolled sedately in, seating themselves and heating up their laptop displays of the last quarter’s expense activity. Vinnie secretly enjoyed the few raised eyebrows the winking diamond brought—particularly the one from Paul Beckstead, who had rightly considered Frank McPike the last bastion of conservative behavior. Until Vinnie had come along. Who knew—maybe he could talk Paul into a new haircut…nah, the world just wasn’t ready for that.

“Ow!” he muttered when Frank kicked his leg under the table. He leaned down to rub at the bruise and Frank mouthed, “Shut up and stop laughing,” self-conscious all over again. 

“I think you broke my leg!” he whispered, returning the glare measure for measure.

“Be glad I didn’t break something else.”

“Well if you’d just lighten….” He noticed an all-too-familiar silence in the room and looked up with a sinking sense of dread to see Beckstead and his haircut frowning their way.

“Are you two just about finished?” Beckstead asked, voice dripping with a sarcasm that rivaled Frank’s. “Ready to join the rest of the class now?”

“Sorry, Paul” he heard from behind his shoulder and he didn’t have to turn: he could feel the heat of Frank’s embarrassment radiating off the man.

“Uh, yeah,” he echoed, tossing a guilty smile toward the front of the room and slouching back in his chair.

“And let me take this moment to compliment you on your new fashion statement, Frank,” Beckstead added curtly before turning back to the wall monitor. Vince smirked; it was expected of him.

Frank’s whispered vow just barely reached him. “You’ll pay for that. Oh boy, you’ll pay for that.”

He knew his Franks. He would pay for it. He smiled again.

He was looking forward to it.


End file.
